


Flesh & Bone (Glitter & Gold)

by jaylene



Category: Naruto
Genre: BAMF Sakura, But her friends catch on quick, F/M, Sakura manages to stumble her way into a dragon's hoard, Sakura's oblivious, Supernatural Elements, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-04-24 19:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14361945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylene/pseuds/jaylene
Summary: In which Sakura inadvertently becomes a part of a dragon's hoard. Correction: *dragons’.





	1. Chapter 1

Indra huffs, rubbing his hands across his elbows hard, attempting to center himself. He is always like this post-hibernation, disoriented and distant as sleep drags down upon him, tempting him with the promise of a couple more months.

The most dangerous thing to a creature like himself isn’t others; it’s his own ennui and apathy.

It is only the knowledge that his brother is expecting him in a few days that gets him moving. He knows Ashura far too well; his brother would infringe on his lair to wake him and Indra isn’t in the mood to start his awakening with an all-out brotherly brawl. They’ve done it before and it always puts Indra in a stormy mood.

Indra goes through the motions of his ablations, movements precise and graceful, refined over the centuries.

These done, he dons his sunglasses and leaves his lair, emerging into the  sunlight for the first time in six months. Despite the weakness of the light, Indra still squints, shading his eyes.

His cars are in the shop, as they always are during his hibernation. No matter, he can do this the old fashion way. A ripple of power pulses through him as he stretches his arms, eyes flashing gold.

Besides, Indra needs the exercise.

* * *

 

The chimes begin to tinkle as Indra steps into the small shop. He glances at them, a myriad hodgepodge of bells, beads, and pieces of glass. He smirks at the evil eye hanging among them.

It is a paltry charm in the face of what he is.

Indra turns his gaze through the shop, taking in the strange oddities that make up the shop’s inventory. There are a few new additions, including a fetching tome on alchemy that Indra recognizes from the seventeenth century.

He frowns when he realizes who is manning the register. A young pink-haired woman, with high cheekbones, strong collarbones, and delicate wrists, is bent over a scroll written in Latin. “Who are you?” he asks, demands really.

He does not care for change.

She looks up and his breath catches for a moment at her piercing green eyes. They remind him of peridot, deep and sparkling through multiple facets. Peridot is not his favorite stone, he prefers the rich blue tones of tanzanite and lapis lazuli. Her skin reminds him of morganite, her hair a deeper blush of the same stone. She blows a bubble, shattering his wandering thoughts. He rubs his chest, puzzled. Perhaps the jolt comes from the first sentient contact he’s had since awakening.

“I’m Sakura,” she says in response in his question. She scrutinizes him for a moment and he straightens. “Based on your appearance and brusque manner, you must be Indra, right?”

He nods, a sharp incline of his head. “Is my order ready?”

“Yep,” she says, popping the p and her gum. “I’ll go grab that from the back.”

Sakura weaves among the items, ducking beneath a blown glass unicorn filled with a silvery powder.

Indra moves forward, peering over the counter at the scroll Sakura was reading. It dates back to the second century, the shimmery purple over it a protective spell. It’s a list of potions, medicinal in nature.

“Here’s your order.” Sakura’s voice sounds from behind a box bigger than she is. With a slight grunt, she levers it onto the counter. She sees where his attention is and laughs. “I’m reading that to enhance my understanding of Latin for the MCAT.”

Indra isn’t completely sure what Latin has to do with cats, really Egyptian would make much more sense, but he doesn’t comment. Instead he asks, “And how is that going?”

“It’s slow but I’ve made some progress,” she says, passing him a clipboard. “Could you sign?”

Indra takes the pen and clipboard from her, signing off with a flourish. He passes it along with a lump of gold and a fist-sized sapphire to her. To her credit, Sakura doesn’t seem surprised. She presses a few buttons on the rickety old register and deposits the payment within the appropriate bins. Most of the other jewels are subpar compared to his offering, though there is one brilliant dark opal that catches his eye.

Indra’s fingers twitch with the desire to reclaim the payment, lay claim to this hoard, _possess_ , but he fights it off. He’s old enough to be in control of his baser urges. Still it is hard to fight nature…

“Ino said you hibernate,” Sakura says, interrupting his thoughts. Her eyes are assessing. “You a werebear?”

Indra snorts at that. “No, I am not a bear shifter.”

She leans against the counter, warming to the game at hand. “Baku? Phoenix?” Sakura raises an eyebrow. “Incubus?”

“No. Not quite.” He stops, finding his lips curling upward into a smile. The stretch is unfamiliar, strange, but he finds that he enjoys it. Indra wonders how long it’s been since he’s smiled like this, playful and fun. Centuries? A millennium? “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s a no on the incubus theory then,” Sakura says, shaking her head. She opens her mouth to add something and Indra finds himself leaning forward, interested in her thought process.

Instead the chimes at door ring in greeting and they both turn, catching sight of the Yamanaka heiress as she strides in, flipping up her sunglasses as she does so.

“Sorry I’m running late, Sakura,” she says, sailing forward to the counter. “The buyer wanted to haggle.”

“Your favorite game,” Sakura says with a grin.

Indra observes them, taking in the fondness between them. There are years of history, a sisterhood forged by something more than blood. He gives Ino a placid look when she turns to him, protectiveness clear in her gaze. He ignores the urge to bare his teeth, to start a fight that he knows he can win.

“I know you need to get going Sakura,” Ino says, not once taking her eyes from Indra. He approves of her wariness in the face of a predator. “Shikamaru is expecting you.”

Sakura nods in agreement, ducking and grabbing a messenger bag from beneath the desk. She pauses as she looks over the scroll. “Ino, may I bring it with me? I’ll have it back to you in three days, beginning of my shift. Promise.”

“Of course,” Ino replies. “Let me know if you find any promising recipes.”

Sakura smiles, glancing at Indra once more. “Well, I guess I’m out of time and guesses. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” She offered him her hand to shake.

Indra takes it, bowing over it and pressing a kiss to her hand. “The pleasure is mine.”

She wrinkles her nose at him when he releases her, but says nothing. Ino’s glare speaks volumes. Sakura carefully rolls the scroll, placing it into a document tube. She pushes it into her bag, swinging the bag over a shoulder. “Anyway,” she says, glancing between Ino and Indra, sensing the tension. “I’ve got to go. I’ll give you a call tonight Ino.”

Indra watches her go, fingers twitching.

“Don’t,” Ino says.

Indra’s eyes slide her way as he chooses not to dignify that with a response. Instead, he picks up his order, gives her a nod, and heads out the door.

One thing’s for certain; he’ll be returning to the shop in three days.

He has to investigate this further.


	2. Chapter 2

Ashura glances down at his watch, frowning. Shikaku was supposed to meet him fifteen minutes ago. Despite the inherent Nara laziness, no doubt a byproduct of the shade lineage, Shikaku is always punctual. At least, with him.

People know better than to offend an Ootsutsuki.

Perhaps they are becoming too comfortable around him. Ashura's fingers flex, nails lengthening to sharp points.

Someone curses. Ashura looks up, attention caught by the group of people clustered around a series of tables. They seem to be playing some sort of card game.

"What is that?" Ashura asks of the Nara scion.

"Local card tournament," Shikamaru replies, eyes down in deference. He is not going to get involved with Ootsutsuki affairs any more than he must.

Ashura hums, his focus on the players. Most are young, both in appearance and essence, shy of a full century. Indra does not care for young ones, finding their energy far too chaotic and erratic, unable to settle fully into their bodies. Ashura, however, views their youthfulness as electric, buoyant. He enjoys the fire of youth, so different from the tranquil waters of eternity.

There are a few who show their age in lines and grey, but they are just as rambunctious as the young ones, exclaiming wildly and slapping the tables as part of the game. This area of the shop is newer, filled with sleek machines and flashing lights. Ashura prefers the controlled chaos of the rest of the shop, the ancient game boards for senet, go, and Mehen closer companions to him than any outside his family. Still, there is something in him that enjoys the gaudiness of the new, perhaps because he imagines Indra's expression in the face of it all.

Indra refuses to adapt to the changing times. Ashura, however, has realized the truth of time: its only constant is change. He may not embrace it always, certainly not the passing trends, but Ashura does accept that change will always shadow his steps.

A loud cheer followed by cursing greets Ashura's ears. He looks over at the commotion, watching as a woman stands from the table, triumphant, as she pulls the winnings closer to her. A quick glance at the winnings tell him that she's just won the group's entire pot.

"And we'll take a break now," Shikamaru says, stepping forward. "Refreshments are over there." He points at a table near Ashura.

Ashura watches as the others reluctantly leave the table, grumbling as they do so. The woman stays behind, raking her winnings into an oversized handbag. She has an odd coloring, pastel pink hair that appears untouched by chemical dyes. Shikamaru lingers near her, speaking with her in low tones. There's a camaraderie there, born of something deeper than seller and consumer. He watches them for a lack of something better to do, taking in Shikamaru's exasperation and her nonchalance.

"You have to stop that," Shikamaru mutters, running a hand through his hair.

"What? Winning?" she says, thumbing through the cash as she counts it.

"You know what," he hisses in turn. "Sakura, someone's gonna catch on."

The woman, Sakura, rolls her eyes. "I didn't use any powers, Shikamaru. Nor did I make a luck potion. This is a game of strategy; I guess my experience playing against you and your dad is paying off."

"There is some luck involved," Shikamaru replies, following her to a different, empty table. "The way the deck is shuffled matters."

Sakura places her bag down, turning to him and, in the process, Ashura. Her eyes are unholy fire, crackling, alien green. Ashura inhales sharply as magic sparks from her. It isn't much, mere ashes of her true power, but he feels it all the same.

Whatever type of magic user she is, she is quite strong.

Ashura finds himself paying even closer attention, observing her with new eyes.

"I didn't cheat," Sakura says, poking Shikamaru in the chest with a magic-infused finger. He winces, rubbing the spot. Sakura stops, anger dissipating. Her face falls and Ashura tastes the bitterness of fear. "I hurt you, didn't I?"

Shikamaru sighs, grabbing her hands. "Just a stinging hex. It's fine, Sakura. I apologize for questioning you. I just worry."

"I know," Sakura says, grasping his hands in turn. Her fear dissolves into the rich warmth of amusement and humor. Ashura licks his lips, inhaling deeply. "You're always such a mother hen. Ino's been complaining."

Shikamaru scowls and drops her hands. "Troublesome. This is the thanks I get for caring?"

Sakura laughs, a deep, genuine sound that resonates from her gut, and Ashura takes a step forward. He stops, catching himself, and frowns. What was that about?

He isn't given much a chance to contemplate his actions as Shikaku calls, "I am so sorry for the wait, Ashura." There's a nervousness about him and the acrid taste of anxiety hits Ashura's tongue. His lip curls slightly in disgust, but gives Shikaku his attention. "We can go ahead to the backroom."

Ashura glances at Sakura in his periphery, now seated at the lone table and shuffling a deck of cards. He sighs, but follows Shikaku behind the shop counter. They make their way through the back hallway, filled with half empty boxes and goods that have yet to hit the shelves. Ashura pauses as the scent of magic skitters across his senses. He sniffs, seeking out the item that catches his attention.

Shikaku wisely stays silent as Ashura stalks through the hallway, stopping at a wooden crate filled with sweet smelling hay. He digs his fingers through the hay, grasping a cylindrical object. Ashura pulls it free, assessing his find.

It is a long clear rod, lined from within with a flashing, pulsing strand. The glass sings beneath his claws, calling and beckoning to him. Ashura smiles fondly, running his thumb along the edge of it. He has always appreciated good finds. He returns his attention to Shikaku and the smile disappears. "I will be purchasing this," he tells him.

"You may have it," Shikaku says, head tilted down in deference. "Consider it an apology for my lateness."

Ashura nods his acceptance, tucking the rod away into a pocket of his peacoat. "Now, let us discuss the terms of this trade."

* * *

Ashura emerges from the backroom, energized and triumphant. He loves deals like this; the sensation of victory that washes over him with every successful trade. It takes the sting out of parting with parts of his collection, especially since he always gets the better half of the deal. Even now, he can taste the exhaustion on Shikaku, in the way it lines his face and shoulders. There is no defeat, just a weary satisfaction. Part of Ashura's own triumph comes of pulling off the coup successfully.

He gazes around the room, taking in that it is noticeably more empty than it was earlier. Sakura, however, is still present, sitting across from Shikamaru. He feels a wave of her power, augmented in the deck of cards. Intrigued, he moves forward.

"Your present is the queen of diamonds," Sakura says, pushing the card Shikamaru's way. She grins. "A blonde woman who loves to party and gossip. She's rather flirty."

"Oh ha, ha," Shikamaru says with a roll of his eyes, shoving the card back Sakura's way. "Have you informed Ino that she's a character in your cards?"

"Of course," Sakura replies with a laugh. Shuffling the queen of diamonds back into her deck. "She was very flattered to hear that she's a queen."

Shikamaru shakes his head though the wry smile betrays him. The smile falls away though when he meets Ashura's gaze. Shikamaru stiffens.

Sakura looks at him before rounding in her seat. She looks him over and Ashura finds himself shivering slightly beneath the full weight of her gaze. She smiles, ignoring the tension emanating from both Shikamaru and Shikaku. "May we help you?"

"Perhaps you can," Ashura says, sauntering closer. "Would you give me a reading?"

Her magical essence almost hiccups with surprise. "I can," she replies. "My skill does not truly lie with cartomancy, though I am trying to get better."

"No matter," Ashura says, moving around to the front of her. He doesn't look away as Shikamaru scrambles out of the folding chair, offering it instead to Ashura. He fishes in his pockets, procuring the glass rod. "Will this suffice as payment?"

Her eyes go wide and round. "I don't require—"

"She accepts," Shikamaru nearly shouts, interrupting their transaction. Ashura turns a thunderous look his way. "She accepts," he says again, voice softer.

Sakura gives Shikamaru a quizzical look but nods all the same. "My thanks," she says, eyes on the rod as he places it to the side of the table. She shakes her head and returns to shuffling. "Will a three card read be amenable?"

Ashura inclines his head, just taking her in. Her nails are short and painted to look like a meteor streaking across the tips of her fingers. She is dressed in a black tank top covered by an over-sized cardigan outlined in constellations. Her pink hair is pulled back and out of her face with a stubby ponytail. A few strands fall free and frame her face. From her ears dangle miniature Saturns, suspended among hoops that represent rings. Her bright green eyes are down, focused on her shuffling.

He is drawn out of his perusal as Sakura flips out three cards in front of him.

"Past, present, future," she says, tapping them from his left to the right. "Your past is the ace of spades: a past filled with obsession and conflict. Your present is the ten of diamonds: a life of money and travel." She glances up at him, smiling. "A life filled with good luck." She taps the final card, lips pursing.

"What is it?" Ashura asks.

"Your future is the joker: new developments,  _risky_  developments. Your future is lined in fresh starts and new beginnings. Renewal, rebirth." She looks at him, her smile brittle. Her scent is filled with nerves and anxiety. "Ta da."

He grins, charmed. "Brava. It's a bit general, but cartomancy, really divination as a whole, usually is. Your predictions of my past and present are correct. I can't say anything about the future, though perhaps I can give you an update when the future finally arrives." He smiles, inviting her to laugh.

She does, throwing her head back and gracing him with a view of the slender column of her throat. Ashura's breath catches as he watches the movement of her throat, claws flexing with want. He wants to possess, to own, to have.  _She_  has the most value of anything in this store.

Shikaku clears his throat, bringing Ashura back to himself. He realizes with embarrassment that he's begun to chirr, thankfully at a tone too low for anyone in the store to notice. Unless they touched him, they will have no idea. The chirr abruptly peters off.

"Sakura, we need to begin to close," Shikaku says, eyes flicking back and forth between Sakura and Ashura. Undoubtedly, he's aware of Ashura's vested interest. "You're meeting with Tsunade tonight, right?"

Sakura's expression morphs to one of panic as she glances down at her watch. She curses, snatching up the cards and placing them away. She handles the rod with more care and Ashura feels the pulse of two magics as she touches it. He smiles, satisfied.

The glass rod accepts her, just as he thought it would.

"I must be going as well," Ashura says, standing. "I will send someone by with the goods in two days. I expect everything will be ready then, yes?"

Shikamaru looks like he wants to say something, anger a storm cloud upon his face. However, Shikaku places a hand on his shoulder, staying him. "Of course."

Ashura smirks. "A pleasure as always Shikaku."

"A pleasure, Ashura," he replies, face sour.

Ashura accompanies Sakura to the door, opening it for her as she reaches for it. She murmurs her thanks, stepping outside. Immediately a bird swoops down, lighting upon Sakura's upturned arm. Ashura realizes with a start that, while he was messing with the Naras, Sakura pulled on long leather gloves.

She huffs in amusement, rubbing at the feathers beneath the bird's beak. "He's a glutton," she says softly.

"Do you feed him?" Ashura asks with interest. "Is he a pet?"

"He isn't a pet," Sakura says. "I do feed him as a byproduct of some of my magics. He has yet to understand that I don't always have treats with me."

Ashura hums, looking over the bird. He is a sharp-shinned hawk who is in his prime, apparently possessive over Sakura as gold eyes snap to Ashura. The bird knows a predator like himself.

Sakura sighs, whistling a couple of low notes. The bird takes to the sky once more, soaring over them.

"It was nice meeting you, Ashura," Sakura says. "Unfortunately, I must be going."

"Of course. I won't keep you," Ashura replies. "I will let you know if your future prediction comes true."

Sakura laughs, waving at him before jogging off down the street. Ashura watches her go, smiling to himself. She may have taken his parting words as a joke, but he certainly does not.

He will see her again.


	3. Chapter 3

Indra walks into the _Dancing Bear_ , inhaling the heady scent of hops within the distillery. It is one of the many breweries owned by the Akimichi, renowned the world over for their eateries. In fact, they have strongholds, _restaurants_ as they term them but Indra knows the truth, within over ninety countries. Truly, should any magical being decide to rise up and make a bid for world domination, which occurred every few centuries or so, the Akimichi would be poised perfectly for such an attempt. Yet, they do not attempt and Indra knows it is because the Akimichi lack an interest in politics.

He isn’t here to parlay with the Akimichi though; Indra is here for the part-time bartender.

“Indra, what a surprise,” Sakura says dryly, continuing to polish a glass. “What can I do for you today?”

Indra can and does think of many things he would like her to do, but he refrains from mentioning them, curtailing himself to the social conventions of her question. “Any spirits from India?”

Sakura nods, turning away from him for a moment to rifle in the cabinets behind her. He observes her while she’s distracted, taking in the tiny twisting braids that curl away from her face, framing her neck. She’s dressed rather drably by her standards, a gray and white striped button down shirt tucked into dark slacks. Something about the clothes, perhaps the way they mute her vibrancy, makes him grit his teeth but Indra keeps his face placid when she turns back his way.

She raises the bottle his way, hiding its label with a smile. “I think this one will be difficult.”

Indra smiles, his instincts clamoring at the challenge in her words. He wants to prove himself, overcome the challenge she sets forth, show himself to be a worthy opponent. “Let’s begin then.”

Sakura nods and he can taste her anticipation and excitement as he inhales. It is so different from the indifference and boredom she was putting off when he first entered the room and Indra wants to crow his accomplishments to the sky. Instead, he hoards that satisfaction close, watching as she opens the bottle and pours a finger’s worth of the dark amber liquid into one shot glass. She pushes it toward Indra and waits.

Indra lifts the glass between his claw-tipped fingers, observing the alcohol as he swirls it. The darkness lightens as he does so and it almost appears gold before settling once more. He inhales, parsing through the prevalent notes of fire and spice to the subtler strains of crisped earthiness. It appeals to the fire in him, as most of the stronger spirits do. While Indra, with his constitution, could drink petrol and be completely fine, he much prefers alcohol as his accelerant of choice. Of human inventions, alcohol may be his favorite, though he knows many of beings who have taken the human concept and elevated it to perfection. He closes his eyes, transported momentarily to time he spent centuries ago in the northeast of India; the spice originated there.

“This is apong,” he says, opening his eyes with a smirk as he takes in the brief flicker of surprise on Sakura’s face. “Made of rice roasted until it burns black before fermenting; it’s preserved with bhut jolokia.” Sakura’s face falls. “Don’t feel crestfallen; I ate bhut jolokia by the bushel when I stayed in India.”

Sakura shakes her head and something tinkles. Indra’s attention is drawn to the long hanging earrings that frame her face, the shapes resembling a moon on the left and a sun on the right. Indra hides a smile at the reminder of her love of the skies above, even as something in him aches to replace the cheap gilt with true gold.

“We call them ghost peppers these days,” Sakura says, a wry smile tucked into the corner of her lips.

“‘These days?’ Are you implying that I’m old?” Indra asks, curious as to her answer. Most shy away from such direct questions from him, cowed by his obvious power and afraid to insult. He wants to know how Sakura will respond.

“I know you’re ancient,” Sakura says blithely, meeting his gaze without care. “I can feel it in your bones. You know, I once handled dinosaur bones while working at the Aburame Museum. Shino let me touch them barehanded since we wanted to see if my powers could influence them. I could feel their age, ancient and brittle within them. They were ready to crumble beneath that heavy weight. You’ve existed for much longer than they; yet the age doesn’t weigh you down or threaten to break you. You’re suited to it, donning it as a garment of strength.”

Indra just stares at her, a curious feeling taking root in his gut. He thinks it might be astonishment. He cannot think of the last time anyone outside of his brother spoke to him in such a frank manner. He supposes he should be experiencing anger, resentment at being treated so freely by a being so young as Sakura, but he cannot find it within himself to do so. In fact, Indra finds the experience refreshing, exhilarating in its own way.

Sakura treats him as an equal, not by demeaning him, but inviting him to meet her at her level. He wonders if, perhaps, this is what friendship is.

“You are not wrong,” Indra says, stretching languidly.

His eyes shift to the periphery, taking in the other customers in the establishment. There are not many, but the ones that are present seem far too interested in Sakura’s interactions with him. Indra’s eyes flash gold as he extends his power, enveloping Sakura and himself in a protective enchantment that will keep prying eyes and ears from understanding what they say and do. Instead, they’ll see and hear cordial, simple conversation between the pair, rather than what they actually speak. Sakura’s power sparks to the surface, silvery light ringing up her arms in sparks and brightening her eyes from within with endless fire. Indra likes the sting and spark of it, exerting a bit more of his considerable power to see if she buckles beneath it.

“Quite the illusory spell,” Sakura comments, brow furrowing slightly. “What are you doing with your…power, your essence?” The silver fire at her arms thickens, taking on the form of lightning against skin. “Are you trying to dominate me?”

“Perhaps,” Indra replies, amused and intrigued. “What do you plan to do about it?”

Her energy flares, the sting becoming more of a stab against his senses. She is _strong_. Then, abruptly, it stops.

“Nothing,” she says, tamping down on her power, drawing it back within herself. Indra mourns the loss immediately. “I have no desire to fight, especially not one such as yourself.” Her smile is self-deprecating. “It wouldn’t be much of a fight.”

Indra’s smile shifts to a frown. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re quite powerful, especially for one shy of her first century.”

“Still, I may be young, but I know better than to entangle with beings outside of my caliber,” Sakura says, shaking her head. “I’ll stick to my potions and training for now.” Her smile lightens to something playful as she leans forward against the bar. “Try me again in a couple of decades. I might be able to go toe-to-toe with you then.”

Indra rubs his chest with some force, still aching from the sheer weight of her energy. He thinks that, should she so choose, Sakura could go toe-to-toe with him now. He’s never felt a power like that before, raw and heavy, all contained within such a tiny vessel. He smiles, a hint of fang peeking through his teeth. “I am certain you will, Sakura.”

Indra picks up the apong and throws it back, savoring the spicy sweetness almost as much as her high laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just in, Sakura and Indra are the biggest fucking dorks. This constitutes flirting for them. NERDS!
> 
> https://ko-fi.com/jaylene


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, well, well," Ashura says, sauntering over to the table where Sakura is seated. "Fancy meeting you here."

Sakura smiles up at him, lifting her gaze from the jars she's sorting through. "Yes, very strange seeing me here, considering the fact that I'm the one that told you about this market."

Ashura laughs at that, enjoying the playful tilt to Sakura's head and the sparkle in her eyes. "So perhaps it wasn't much of a surprise. I am thankful that you told me of this market; I had not realized that Konoha hosted such things."

"Certainly we do," Sakura replies. "Farmer's market, magical market; Konoha has it all." Her smile is teasing. "I will say that the Uzumaki jams here have a special kick that you won't find at the farmer's market."

"Oh?" Ashura says, thinking of what he knows of the Uzumaki. "You sure the kitsune don't hide any nasty little surprises in their jams?"

"Menma might, but Karin and Naruto are in charge of running the booth at the market," Sakura replies.

Ashura nods, glancing at the free seat beside Sakura. He grabs the chair, pulling it around to face her before taking a seat. "So," he says, eyes assessing all of the items she has on display. "What have we here?"

"Jarred spells," Sakura replies. "They're rather simple, spells for light, for heat, for cold, and the like. The most difficult part of them was learning the sealing technique." She picks up one of the jars, showing the hairline silver lines running along the jar. "I managed to wheedle a couple of techniques out of the Uzumaki; nothing very advanced but quite useful." Sakura sighs wistfully. "Fūinjutsu is the best. So many practical uses." She traces the looping silver design near the lid. "And so pretty."

"You learned techniques from the kitsune?" Ashura whistles, long and low even as consternation flares through him. His fingers twitch as his instincts clamor for him to take, take,  _take_. Ashura's brow furrows slightly. Huh. He shakes off the minor revelation, returning his attention to the conversation. "From what I know of them, that is quite a feat. They're very secretive."

Sakura shrugs, eyes darting away beneath the weight of his gaze. "I grew up with Naruto, Karin, and Menma. The current clan matriarch, Kushina, likes me well enough." She laughs, flushing slightly as a pleased smile turns up her lips. "She always jokes that she isn't really giving the secret to an outsider; I'm family."

Ashura hums speculatively, glancing over toward the Uzumaki booth. It is on the other end of the market, but it is no issue to his draconian eyesight. The youngest generation of Uzumaki occupy the booth, nearly overcrowding it. Ashura refrains from rolling his eyes; foxes pup far too many kits for his tastes. They are riot of red hair, though he notes two boys who stand apart, one with blond hair and the other black. He meets their curious blue eyes and smirks, turning back to Sakura.

There will be no threat from them.

"It is good to have connections among the magical clans," Ashura says, taking the jar from Sakura's hands. He purposefully allows his claws to trail gently along her hands, tracing along the thin blue veins and freckles in her hands. His lips pull up in a genuine smile at the way her cheeks color, but she doesn't pull away. "This is quality work. Are you certain that you are a first generation sorceress? The fine details you put into this, like using marble to anchor the heat and make the spell more potent, are the work of someone raised to this."

Sakura laughs, throwing back her head and displaying the column of her throat. Ashura's eyes dilate at the gesture though he clears his throat roughly, knowing that she is unaware of the nuances of draconic culture.

She does not know the offer she just made him or even the way he  _aches_  to answer it.

"Well, my abilities manifested in middle school." She shakes her head, still laughing. "What a day that was. They say that middle school is the worst time of your life, but this day lives in infamy among my friends." Sakura leans forward on her elbows, getting into her story. Ashura reciprocates, grinning at the humor that electrifies her eyes. He can almost see the power in them. "It was near the end of seventh grade. I'd just turned twelve and landed a sure spot on the volleyball team for eighth grade. We were starting up practice, you know, getting serious about it. I felt like I was on top of the damn world.

"Of course, it was around that time that I started my period. The first day passed by with no problems, but the second day became an issue," Sakura says, chuckling. "It was during fourth period, our physical science lab, and I started having these cramps. Absolutely horrendous. And Kabuto was droning on and on…well, he called on me and I couldn't answer the question because I couldn't focus. Sasuke made a snide remark and I just…snapped. Something deep in my gut lurched and I passed out."

"And?" Ashura asks, enthralled by the story.

"Well, I woke up three days later. From what I've been told, I made all forms of liquid in the entire school, including my period, stop for a solid hour and a half. Everyone in class was excited because it got them out of the experiment for the day."

Sakura threads her fingers beneath her black cold shoulder top, pulling out the pendant she has around her neck. She pulls it off, passing it to him. Ashura takes it, turning it over in his hands with blatant fascination. It looks almost like a crystal with its irregular structure, but he's never seen a crystal that glowed an unnatural fluorescent green.

"What is this?" Ashura asks. "I've never seen a stone or mineral like this." He wants to take this treasure and cosset it away. "It's unique."

"Well, it's what happens when a young witch unknowingly releases all of her power at once while Naruto was drinking Mountain Dew. All the other liquids eventually started moving again, but not this. Naruto kept for me as a memento." She smiles fondly down at the pendant. "You see how it's lit from within? It was a byproduct of my magic but Naruto was convinced that Mountain Dew could work as a flashlight if he made the right concoction." She rolls her eyes. "Karin, Menma, and Sasuke certainly didn't do anything to disabuse him of this notion." Sakura scoots closer, staring intently down at the pendant laid out in his flat palm. She reaches out, pointing at the pendant. "If you look closely, you'll see that there are portions inside that are still liquid or something similar. It moves around all on its own."

Ashura stands, coming around the table and sidling up close to Sakura. "Would you show me?" he asks, when she casts him a befuddled look. "It's a bit difficult for me to see."

"Of course," Sakura replies, grabbing his hand and drawing it closer to their faces. She taps at different sections of his palm, ignorant of the little jolts of electricity that go through him with each touch. "You see here? The way the liquid swirls around inside the pendant? It's perpetually in motion. I don't know if that's a result of my magic or if it's something to do with all the chemicals put into it by the Pepsi Company. Maybe a combination of both? I don't know."

Ashura closes his hand around the pendant, capturing her hand in his. She looks at him, startled but steady. "That is an impressive first working; perhaps the most powerful I've ever heard."

Sakura laughs, ducking her head, flattered. "Well, perhaps it is because I didn't grow up in a family known for its sorcery; I didn't have limits or restrictions placed on my power so that I could channel it safely." She shrugs. "I've bumbled along successfully enough so far, but…"

"But?" Ashura says, squeezing her hand.

"Well," Sakura says, fidgeting slightly. Still, she turns her hand to intertwine their fingers. Ashura notes that it's much better than him just holding her hand. "It would be nice to have a mentor."

"Who do you have in mind?" Ashura asks.

"Well, if I get into the medical program, I really would like to work under Tsunade Senju." Sakura's voice takes on a wistful quality. "She effortlessly blends her witchery with medicine; she's a pioneer and revolutionary in the field. If I can manage it, it'll still be years before I can work under her but…" Sakura sighs, shaking her head. "Well, that's the dream. I have to get into medical school first."

Ashura doesn't care for the way she looks downtrodden. He draws his hand away from hers gently, lifting the pendant toward her expectantly. She turns, moving her hair away from her neck. Ashura swallows against his instincts once more, threading the necklace around her neck and closing the clasp. He is unable to resist the temptation to brush his hands against the back of her neck, arranging her hair back into place. Ashura says nothing of the way she shivers, watching intently as she turns back toward him.

"How was your MCAT?" he asks.

"Hellish," she replies, though the quirk to her lips tells him that her good humor is back. "The worst part though is the waiting. I have another two and a half weeks left until I get the results."

"Perhaps you could hibernate until then?" Ashura suggests.

"Hibernate?"

"Sure," Ashura says, chucking her under the chin with a wry smile of his own. "My hibernations last for decades or even centuries, so I'm sure you can manage a couple of weeks."

"Hibernation, huh?" Sakura asks, raising her brows. "That sounds like—" Sakura cuts herself off, realization dawning upon her face.

"Sounds like what?" Ashura asks, curious.

"Nothing," she replies, shaking her head, even as she casts him an odd, dazed look. "It's nothing."

"Alright," Ashura says, choosing not to push her. "Well, I should make my purchases for the day."

"Oh yeah?" Sakura asks. "What would you like to buy?"

"I'll take everything you have," Ashura says, grinning at the shock on her face even as something in him warms and goes soft at her awed smile. "C'mon now, you have a paying customer! Chop, chop!"


	5. Chapter 5

"So when is this party going to be?"

"Next Friday night," Sakura replies, looking at her roommate upside down from her odd position on the couch. "That's when I get my MCAT results."

"I see," Tenten says, emotion coloring her voice. Sakura's head feels fuzzy, but she's pretty sure Tenten is amused. "And will we still have alcohol by Friday? At the rate you're going it'll all be gone by—" She glances around at the empty bottles around Sakura, "—tomorrow morning?"

"Shut up," Sakura says. "I don't have a problem,  _you_  have a problem."

Tenten snorts.

"Besides, we can make it a BYOB party." Her brows furrow. "Or would that be a BYOA?"

"BYOA," Tenten replies. "So you'll have me playing bouncer for the cheapskates who don't bring alcohol with them? You know Sasuke won't bring anything."

"That's why we'll make sure Naruto and Kiba go buy alcohol beforehand; they'll make it a contest," Sakura says, smiling dozily at the heat filling her face. "Sasuke will buy the most expensive thing; it'll taste like shit but it'll get the job done."

Tenten laughs outright at that, patting Sakura's legs. Sakura loves Tenten's laughter, it is light and airy while still containing a tempting, heavy weight. Her laughter promises happiness and joy to any who hear it. Sakura knows that promises like that can dash people upon the rocks, destroying them, but Sakura knows Tenten's promises are kept. "You're still a pretty good strategist even when you're drunk." Tenten takes a seat on the settee catty corner to the couch. "So why are you drunk on this lovely Tuesday evening?"

"You know how I have a booth in the magical market? Well, Ashura visited today."

"Ashura?" Tenten asks, perking with interest. She hasn't met him herself, but she's heard about him from both Sakura and their extensive circle of friends. Everything she's heard has been a mixed bag, though on all accounts there is healthy reverent fear. Except from Sakura. "The man you've been flirting with?"

"Yep," Sakura replies, popping the p in an especially irreverent way. She looks up at Tenten with wide, wet eyes. "He's a  _dragon,_ " she whispers.

"Uh-huh," Tenten says, unsurprised. Shikamaru filled them in on  _that_  little tidbit right after Sakura and Ashura met in the Nara shop. Tenten remembers well the way the group chat blew up her phone, vibrating it off her backstage vanity during her performance. By the time she checked the group chat, there were over 200 messages. Sakura was not pleased by the overzealous and overprotective nature of the chat, going so far as blocking them for the following week. "What about him?"

"He's got a brother," Sakura says around the lips of the bottle of fireball whiskey. It's half empty at this point and Tenten doubts it'll last another hour.

"So?" Tenten says. "Most dragons have a sibling or two."

"I may know him…maybe," Sakura says.

A chill climbs Tenten's spine as trepidation sets in. "Oh Sakura. Is it the other guy?"

"Maybe," Sakura says, keeping her gaze down and averted. "To be completely fair, I had no freaking idea that Indra was a dragon. Ino didn't tell me after we met."

"I doubt Ino knew," Tenten replies, taking a seat and staring at Sakura. "Ino's even more protective than Shikamaru. If she knew he was a dragon…"

Tenten trails off, but Sakura knows how that sentence ends. If Ino knew Indra was a dragon, she would never have allowed them to meet or, at the very least, prevent them from continuing to meet. Sakura wasn't born into this world of magic and mayhem, but she's learned the lore surrounding dragons: possessive, powerful, ancient, and all-consuming. To become an individual of interest to one is to court danger.

To become of interest to two….

Sakura groans, driving her face into a throw pillow. Maybe she'll asphyxiate before Friday? That would be nice. And hey, stranger things have happened.

Said stranger things including somehow garnering the sustained interest of dragons.

"Why me?" Sakura asks into the pillow.

Tenten sighs, petting a hand through Sakura's hair. It's longer than she's used to seeing it, nearly reaching between Sakura's shoulder blades. Tenten supposes that Sakura's hectic day-to-day prevent much time for hair care. "You're a wonderful person Sakura. Any idiot can see that. Are you really all that surprised that a dragon or two has noticed?"

"What's the usual relationship between dragon siblings?" Sakura asks, peeking out from behind the throw pillow. Tenten considers it progress. "I mean, is there usually a rivalry?"

"It isn't uncommon," Tenten says. "Dragons are proud and possessive creatures; that nature does not preclude their siblings. In fact, there tends to be a deeper rivalry between siblings."

Sakura sighs, brows furrowing into a scowl. "How likely is it that they both know about the other sibling's interactions with me?"

"Oh," Tenten says, hands stilling in Sakura's hair as she realizes Sakura's train of thought. "I'm not sure."

"Liar," Sakura says. "You're a terrible liar." She exhales heavily. "Well, I'll find out Friday."

"Friday?" Tenten asks, dread coiling in her gut.

"I invited them both," Sakura says. "Don't tell me not to, I already did. It's too late to change course now. I figure that it's unlikely for them to make a spectacle of themselves publicly."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Tenten says. "Dragons aren't exactly known for caring what others think about them or their actions."

"Oh," Sakura says, sitting up slightly and clutching her whiskey closer. "Well, we'll see how it all goes. It will come out, one way or another. I refuse to play a pawn in a game, even if that game is among dragons."

So saying, she takes a swig of the whiskey, eyes fluttering shut at the delicious burn of it going down.

Tenten does not try to fight her smile, pride filling her at Sakura's determination. She is definitely leery of what will happen on Friday, but she trusts Sakura. Sakura is just trying to untangle the web of intrigue she unknowingly stepped into and Tenten will assist in any way she can.

Still…

"Gimme," Tenten says, plucking the whiskey from Sakura's greedy hands and taking a long gulp herself. She's going to need it to survive to Friday. "You know you'll have to give everyone a heads up in the group chat. Seems unethical to allow them to walk in blind to a potential feud between two dragons."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sakura says, flapping a hand. "I know." And then she groans. "You know Sasuke's just going to make it worse. And Naruto. If they challenge either Ashura or Indra…"

"They won't," Tenten says confidently, even when Sakura pins her with a look. "We won't let them."

Sakura nods, scrambling into a seated position as she plucks her phone off the side table and tapping into the group chat. "Well," she says, glancing at Tenten and the whiskey for support. "Here goes nothing…"


End file.
